The Nonary Scheme
by AkaneDied
Summary: Nine Hours, Nine Mercenaries, Nine Doors. The mercenaries' careers culminate with the Nonary Game: a game against time that puts its players' lives at stake without respawning. Based on 999. Adventure/Puzzle. Psychological Thriller. Only TF2 Characters. No OC. No Romance. Future M-Rating for Gore and Extreme Tension. CURRENTLY UNDER REVISION
1. Exposition

**Author's Most Important Note: **THIS FANFICTION WILL NOT PROGRESS INTO YAOI. I feel this is the most important thing to mention, first and foremost. I understand many of you hate reading a captivating fanfic, only to later find the story was intended as a slashfic all along. You can rest assured that this will not happen in this story.

**Author's Other Note That Most People Couldn't Give Two Shits Less About: **I am a male fanfiction writer. Yep, there goes any semblance of masculinity I could possibly have down the drain . . .

Anyway, I will be relying on some typically cheap plot devices to get the story going. This story will have plot twists, but not to the extent you start comparing me to M. Night Shyamalan (or maybe you will. It's okay.). I'll be avoiding the Deus Ex Machina, so none of the plot's explanations or revelations will be aleatory. It may seem otherwise in some parts of the story, but it never will be. There won't be any new characters introduced. I'll try to have the nine mercenaries act as the Valve developers intended as much as possible. Of course, I'll also be giving them some quirks that have originated from my vapid imagination. I'll try not be so absurd.

I seriously cannot believe this fanfiction has not been made yet. Some person with far better writing skills than me could have written this, but nope (as Engineer would say). Instead, you'll have to deal with my sub-par writing skills and sardonic tone of voice . . . just kidding, mostly. I'll stop now.

**Introduction**

This novel is based off the obscure DS game, "999: Nine Hours, Nine Persons, Nine Doors." (Some of you probably thought 999 in the story's summary was a reference to Herman Cain, huh?) Don't worry if you haven't played the game. The novel will be based off the mechanics of the game, but it will not spoil its plot. If you like the concept of this novel, I highly suggest you play the game. You will not be disappointed. The following paragraphs will just be a very brief summary of the game with very minor spoilers.

In the game "999," there were nine people who were trapped in a sinking ship. They had nine hours to escape their doom. There were nine doors, each emblazoned with a number from 1 to 9, hidden in places in the ship. The number 9 door was the exit. Entering the doors was not simple as there was a catch; everyone was wearing digital watches with a number from 1 to 9. No two people shared the same number. Only a group of three, four, or five people was allowed to enter a door at a time, and the numbers of their watches must have had a digital root (I'll explain what this is in-depth later on, but you can always Google it) matching the number emblazoned on the door they had wished to enter.

Once the characters entered the room, they had a puzzle to solve. The puzzles varied from word games and knowledge tests to mathematics and rearranging objects in a certain way. After the puzzle was solved, the characters would receive a key that allowed them to leave the room and open new areas of the ship. Sometimes, supplementary clues pertaining to the game would be found as well.

The characters of the game initially think they have little in common with each other. They just believed they were all caught in a freak-of-nature incidence. Eventually, they find that there is much more to the game than they had first thought, and they all had specific reasons for being there.

The game had multiple endings, with each one revealing something about a character or event another one did not. In a similar fashion, this fanfiction will have what I call scenarios. There will be four of them. The first three ones will be alternate, tragic scenarios while the fourth one will be the true scenario. The game also had, in my opinion, one of the most unique endings in any video game ever, completely utilizing the functionality of the dual screens. I obviously won't be able to recreate such a scene, but I can sure try to make the ending surprising enough.

Lastly, it may seem like this story will be a choose your own adventure type of story, but it really won't be. Yes, I read the rules. The optional puzzles shouldn't be enough to warrant this story as interactive. If that's a problem, oh well.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Team Fortress 2; 999; or Revolution-9. Team Fortress 2 belongs to Valve, 999 belongs to Chunsoft, and Revolution-9 belongs to Apple Records.

* * *

**Exposition**

Chapter 1

_Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine . . ._

Heavy was rudely awakened by a recording of John Lennon's lethargic voice repeating itself.

_Number Nine, Number Nine, Number Nine . . ._

Heavy quickly found the source of the recording. It was coming from a digital alarm clock, which was on a small black nightstand to the left of the small bed Heavy was lying on. He smashed the alarm clock with his large fists. He had not thought, even for a second, to just push the button that turned the alarm off. The recording was annoying him after all.

"Dah," said Heavy in relief.

Heavy had risen from the the bed in a way similar to how the undead rise from their graves in horror films – well, it really wasn't as cinematic. Heavy felt he had been sleeping for a very long time. Although his mind was slowly becoming conscious, his muscles were still very much asleep. Heavy tried standing for a few seconds, but his effort proved to be futile. He lost his balance and fell onto the bed, smashing its delicate frame.

"Oh my God . . ."

Fortunately, the fall had made him fully conscious and had also, ironically, ended his bad mood from his rude awakening. He waited for his blood circulation to come to his legs before finally attempting to stand for a second time. He stretched his arms as high as he could into the air. Waking up had never felt this revitalizing to him. After he was done stretching, he decided to look around the room. It was then that he realized he had never been here before.

"Vhat? Vhere am I?"

Heavy looked at his dimly lit surroundings. The room he found himself in was very small and had few furnishings. Heavy was standing in the center of the room. From his position, there was the broken bed and the nightstand in the top left corner, a cedar chest in the top right corner, a mirror directly to his right, and, behind him, a gray steel door with what seemed like a digital keypad above its handle. Heavy's occupation required him to sleep in many unusual places. He had become almost accustomed to them, but he had never seen anything like the room he was in now.

Heavy headed straight for the door and tried turning its handle. Although the handle rotated, it did not allow the door to open. Heavy tried using more force this time, but the door still did not give in. He now tried barging his 200kg self against the door – something he has done many times for his teammates whenever they couldn't get into a locked door. Alas, the steel door showed no signs of relenting. Heavy tried barging himself three more times against the door before he gave up. He was now hyperventilating. He tended to forget that he was getting old and sometimes brute strength wasn't the answer to a predicament.

Heavy stood at the door, bewildered from the situation he was caught in. It was now evidently clear that someone had abducted him and placed him into this room. Many questions were racing through Heavy's mind (in Russian, of course).

_Who could have done this to me? How did I end up here? What have I done that someone would want to do this to me? I know the work I have done with RED was risky and there were objectives not known to me – is this one of them? Are my teammates all right? Is this . . . is this a gulag? Oh no!_

Heavy stopped looking at the door and decided to explore around the room a bit. There was not much else he could do. He could have a panic attack and start injuring himself like some of his other teammates did whenever they felt constrained. For whatever reason, the feeling of dying and living made some of them – particularly, Soldier and Demoman – extremely euphoric. Maybe Heavy was trapped here to learn to enjoy killing himself whenever he felt times were tough. Yes, that must be it. The overall team morale was pretty low, and perhaps if Heavy were to make a habit of suicide he could help raise it.

_Don't be an idiot, Heavy. Soldier and Demoman are insane. Only insane people would enjoy killing themselves. You are not insane, Heavy – at least not yet. Besides, there is no telling if this place has a respawn machine._

Heavy had a sigh of relief. He had these quite often. He usually conjured positive thoughts to affirm himself that he was not as insane as some of his teammates. He did not dislike any of them, but he felt some of them were too eccentric. If Heavy ever would want to rejoin the general population, he would probably have to distance himself from his teammates. Perhaps rejoining the general population wouldn't be the best for him, anyway.

Heavy really was a great thinker, but it was not conveyed well because of his poor grasp of English. His teammates probably thought of him as some kind of dullard. He was okay with that. He knew he wasn't the smartest person on the team, but he also knew he wasn't the dumbest. He wanted the others to underestimate him. He knew he could gain advantages when his enemies and even friends overlooked his abilities. He wish he could implore Spy to stop being so arrogant – he is, for God's sake, a spy. One would think a spy would be less showy – but this would risk unveiling his facade of _stupidity_.

* * *

Heavy was lost in thought for a few minutes. He hadn't moved an inch from where he stood hyperventilating after attempting to barge into the door.

_There's no use standing around doing nothing. Maybe I can find something in this room that hints to where I currently am. I must admit that I highly doubt I'll find anything of the sort, but again it's better than doing nothing._

As Heavy proceeded to walk towards the cedar chest, he noticed from the mirror that a red light was being emitted from his left wrist. He brought his wrist to his face. The object seemed to have been some kind of watch, but time wasn't being displaying. The only thing on the watch was a big number "5." There were three buttons on the right side of the watch's display. Heavy clicked each of them repeatedly, but nothing happened. He now regretted having smashed the alarm clock. The thing could have told him the time and the date.

_Oh well. Knowing the time probably won't do me much good at the moment._

Heavy opened the cedar chest. The musty scent that left the chest after he opened it immediately reminded him of his parents. His parents stored his clothes inside of cedar chests. As a result, his clothes always smelled of cedar. Of course, he couldn't have the burden of taking a cedar chest with him everywhere he went with his mercenary work. He was happy to have the scent linger in his nostrils, as weird as it may have seemed.

Inside of the chest was a key and a paper labeled "ESCAPE."

"Escape?" said Heavy.

Heavy looked around the room for anything that could possibly have a keyhole. The door used a keypad, the cedar chest was already open, the nightstand had no doors, the alarm clock was in pieces, and there was nothing under the bed. The mirror didn't offer anything but Heavy's reflection, which Heavy himself hadn't paid much attention to until now.

Heavy never actually cared about his own appearance. If he did, he probably would have lost some weight. Heavy appeared slightly thinner in the mirror, though. Was it just the mirror or had he really lost weight? He touched his stomach with his hands. To him, it really didn't feel much different. Maybe it's because his eyes saw one thing and his body felt something else? No, that couldn't have made any sense.

Heavy also looked at his face. He had grown a small goatee. He didn't like having facial hair, but that really didn't matter at the moment; what did was if he had noticeably lost some weight, shouldn't he have had more facial hair than just a mere goatee?

_It must be the mirror. I must stop letting myself be distracted by trivial matters._

Heavy took a glance into his smoky blue eyes. He looked listless, aged, morose . . . He really didn't look like his usual self at that moment. He probably needed some more sleep, but he felt as if he had just awoke from an eternal slumber a few minutes ago. When he regained consciousness after smashing the bed, he thought he was full of vigor. Now, it seems that was just a fleeting emotion. Regardless, he found an opening close to where his nose was reflected on the mirror.

_Is this . . . yes, it is! The keyhole._

Heavy had never been so happy to find a hole before . . . (yeah, yeah. Immature joke. Plenty more where those came from.) He inserted the key and rotated it until he heard a click. Something had been unlocked, and Heavy assumed that something was behind the mirror. He looked behind the mirror and found a small drawer, similar in appearance to trays behind seats on airplanes. He opened it and found a calculator and a paper with instructions. Heavy brought the paper closer to his face and read it:

(**Author's Note**: In the game, as I've mentioned, there were puzzles. I'll be creating some for this fanfiction as well. Most of them will probably be easy or stupid. I wouldn't spend too much time trying to solve this puzzle. Heavy will give some more hints, and the answer will appear at the start of the next chapter. Anyway, here's the first puzzle.)

_So, you want to get OUT? I bet you're wondering where you are. I can provide you with the answers you seek, but first you must escape here by yourself. Do this test to show me you are worthy._

_You've heard of digital roots, no? Well let me enlighten you. A digital root is found by adding the digits of a number until you are left with a single digit. This may sound confusing, but it really is not. Let me show you:_

_The number is 1234. Now, how do we get its digital root? Add the digits!_

_1+2+3+4=10_

_1+0=1_

_Let's try a harder number, 95781. Don't be intimidated. You can always just break it down into smaller bits. Like this:_

_9+5+7+8+1=30_

_3+0=3_

_I hope you understand. If not, you'll be rotting in this room!_

_I guess you'll be wanting the passcode for the door now. Too bad. Do you think me instructing you how to use digital roots was in vain? Fool! I am a very punctual person. I told you this was a test. Don't worry. It won't be too hard._

_You'll need four digits. I guess you could spend time trying to guess the 1 out of 10,000 possible combinations that could be correct, but don't you think that would be a bit too tedious? Yeah, I thought so. Here is your hint:_

_You, Zip, Mercenaries, and the Digital CAPS of this paper not within or below this sentence. Oh, and A=1 and Z=26._

_Have fun!_ _If you need any help, just contact your hidden ESP potential. Ha!_

Heavy reread the paper twice, trying to get a better understanding of what was going on. He wondered who would write in such a frivolous matter, telling others that if they did not follow the instructions they would die. It couldn't have been the Administrator. She was a very stern woman. Heavy couldn't imagine the woman having a sense of humor, not even an iniquitous one. She just didn't seem like a person inclined to laughter. Heavy had heard her laugh over the loudspeakers after a victory before, but it never seemed genuine. It was perhaps a mockery of the triumphant feeling he and his teammates would have after winning a match.

_I thought I told myself . . . well, this isn't exactly trivial, but it's not the most important thing right now. If the instructions are telling the truth, I can leave this room and find out where I am!_

He understood he needed four numbers to open unlock the door. He really didn't feel like punching random numbers until he got the right one. He needed to play along with whoever put him into this situation. He didn't like being toyed with, but it seemed he had no other choice.

_You, Zip, Mercenaries, and the Digital CAPS of this paper not within or below this sentence. Oh, and A=1 and Z=26. What could this possibly mean? How am I supposed to get numbers with this information? Zip, I believe, means zero. Perhaps if I replace that with zero . . . You, Zero, Mercenaries, and the Digital CAPS of this paper not within or below this sentence. Perhaps the other words are supposed to represent numbers as well. You has three letters, so maybe it needs to be replaced with the number three. If that's the case, what I said earlier about Zip is wrong. Mercenaries has 11 letters. If I'm supposed to count the letters of the words, what the hell is the whole point of the last bit about the Digital CAPS? Well, it's worth trying._

Heavy entered 3311 onto the keypad. As he was expecting, the number was not the passcode.

_I should trust my gut feeling. I just know I was correct about Zip. Now, I just need to find out what the other three numbers are. So far, I know *0**__**. **__You know, I could just start entering random codes. The chance of randomly guessing the code is now down to 1 in 1000._

After about fifteen minutes, Heavy had a good feeling he knew what numbers _You _and _Mercenaries_ represented. The remaining part of the sentence about the _Digital CAPS_ still baffled him. He wanted to understand it, even though all he had to do now was punch in the three known numbers and guess the last one until it was correct. The chance of correctly guessing was now down to 1 in 10. This bothered Heavy, though. It was as if whoever wrote the instructions knew that the first three numbers would be easy to guess. It was the last one that would be easily overlooked. He guessed it had something to do with digital roots, which he hadn't used at all to get the first three numbers. The writer had stressed the importance of understanding digital roots. Heavy had an epiphany.

_Of course! CAPS as in capital letters. A=1 and Z=26. And then, the digital root._

Heavy calculated the number mentally. He didn't even need the calculator he was holding, so he placed it into his pocket. He entered the passcode, and this time he was correct.

_Yes, I understand it completely now. Very slick._

Heavy turned the handle and the door was now able to open. He took one last look at the room, and then he left.


	2. Ex2

**Solution to Chapter 1 Puzzle: **5092

_You_ meant Heavy. Heavy has a number 5 watch on his wrist. I know _You _could have also meant 1. I probably should have given a better hint for this number. I'm sure most of you still got it right.

_Zip_ was indeed, 0.

_Mercenaries_ was 9. Do I really need to explain why?

And now the tricky one: _Digital CAPS of this paper not within or below this sentence. _There were only three words on the paper written with all capital letters. They were OUT, CAPS, and ESP. Only one of them was not part or below the sentence; OUT. Next, the hint _A=1 Z=26_ meant the letters had to be converted to numbers.

O=15

U=21

T=20

152120

I'm sure you know by now that the next step would be to find the digital root of the number.

152120

1+5+2+1+2+0=11

1+1=2

This will be the last time I will show how digital roots work. If you need further help on the matter, just Google it.

I think this may have been a little too difficult for being the first puzzle. I'm sure players of 999 had little difficulty as the game had similar puzzles, albeit with some more clues if the player became stumped.

Future puzzles will not only involve arbitrary decryption. I'm thinking I should create word and logic puzzles too. Maybe I'll base them off subjects such as algebra, economics, chemistry, linguistics, dreadful accounting, etc.. Some of those mandatory high school subjects you thought were useless may finally be of use in a future puzzle. Feel free to make a suggestion if there's a particular subject you would like to be included in this story.

**And from this point on, please never write a comment with a guess to a puzzle in a chapter.**

* * *

**Author's Note: **I apologize to the few fans of the first chapter for the huge delay. I should say this now; thank you for your reviews. I am very glad you have enjoyed the story thus far. The first chapter was rather slow, and I wouldn't be surprised if some people were turned away for it being somewhat dull.

I'm going to try updating this more frequently since I have better organized my ideas for the plot, but you should still expect sporadic updates. I can't emphasize in words how much thought I am putting into this story. 999 recently had a sequel released: Virtue's Last Reward. The game has introduced a deluge of new ideas into my mind. Some of them, I think, would fit perfectly into the TF2 universe. The big thing that's faltering them from coming to fruition is my writing skills. I know some people here at are willing to take ideas from people and write stories, but I feel this one needs to be told my way.

I have changed the name of this story from The Nonary Game: TF2 Edition to The Nonary Scheme. If you think about it, The Nonary Game: TF2 Edition sounds redundant. I was initially going to change it to The Nonary Project, but that name was already used in 999. Anyway, I think The Nonary Scheme is a better suited name for the story, and it also makes it seem more exciting and ominous. I have also changed the genre of this story from suspense to suspense/science fiction. There are many genres that this story will fit into, such as adventure, angst, drama, friendship, horror, mystery, and tragedy. There will, however, be a prevalent feeling of suspense throughout the whole story. The story really won't seem like science fiction until much later on.

I was also thinking about moving this story to the crossover section. Although it is heavily based on 999, it really isn't a crossover per se. According to Wikipedia's definition of "fictional crossover," this story would not be one. According to 's definition of it, it may be one. Yes, the concept of this story is almost identical to 999, but the overall theme is different. Unfortunately, I cannot go into much detail about why this is so. Doing so would spoil the whole story (obviously).

Now, I should mention my characterization of Heavy so far. I might have made him intelligent to the point where he seems out of character. Yes, I admit that I really did not put much effort into him in the first chapter. I had him thinking in proper English for much of the chapter. My reasoning behind it was that he was actually thinking in Russian. I will still have his thoughts in proper English, but he will be speaking broken English to other people.

I don't think author's notes are supposed to be this long. Please excuse me. I just felt there were many issues that needed to be addressed before I allow the story to progress. I'm sure some people are thinking I should have just made a longer introduction in the first chapter, which was written more on whim than deep thought. Regardless, I could write on and on about my own shortcomings, but no one wants to read something written begrudgingly. I do have one final thing to mention: chapter four will also have a lengthy author's note, but it probably won't be as long as this one's. Some of the story's mechanics still need to be explained, as I assume not everyone reading this has played 999. After that chapter, the notes will be either brief or nonexistent.

* * *

Chapter 2

Heavy walked out of the room and into a narrow corridor. The air that met his face was much mustier than he was expecting. He figured wherever he was, it must have been old or not taken care of well. It felt strange, considering the locking mechanism used for the steel door seemed quite high-tech. There was another steel door directly in front of where Heavy stood. To the left of that door were four more steel doors; to the right of the door Heavy walked out of were four more steel doors.

_There's more of them? Maybe there are people trapped behind some of them . . ._

Heavy tried knocking each of the nine doors. There was not a response from any of them. The force he used to knock would have woken someone up. He remembered not hearing anything from his door, so he thought of the possibility of the doors being soundproofed. If that was the case, then there was very little he could. He knew he wouldn't be able to force open any of the doors. His body was still aching from his last endeavor.

The door for Heavy's cell automatically closed.

_I can't believe I wasn't paying attention to that!_

Heavy ran frantically to his door. He tried opening the door, but it had already locked. Heavy stared glumly at the door. Even though he had tried to escape from the room, he felt there might have been something he had forgotten there.

One of the doors behind Heavy opened. Heavy quickly turned around to see a familiar lanky silhouette emerge from the door. The man was almost as tall as Heavy, and he was wearing a hat. His hoarse cough made Heavy instantly realize who he was.

"Sniper?" said Heavy. "Is that you?"

Sniper turned to face Heavy, nervously. Although he was certain what he saw was Heavy's face, he was completely suspicious of his surroundings. Being suspicious was a habit of his from being alone for long periods of time, scoping battlefields to shoot down his enemies. He had always had to watch his own back. He never let his guard down.

"Heavy?" said Sniper.

"Da, vhat are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same o' you. I've no idea where I am."

"Neither do I. I voke up to annoying alarm saying 'number nine.' Then, I solve puzzle."

"Really? The same exact thing happened ta me. Did yer puzzle involve some digital root mumbo-jumbo?"

"It did. I thought it vas interesting, but I just wanted to find exit."

"I see." Sniper was staring at the other steel doors in the corridor. "Has anyone else come out of those doors?"

"I don't know. I got out of door very shortly before you did. I tried opening other doors, but all vere locked." Heavy made a slight frown. He was used to using his own physical strength to open doors. He knew Sniper was thinking about this. "Sniper, do you have watch?"

"Yes, I do have one, although it doesn't tell time."

"It only has single number, right?"

"Yes, how'd you know?"

Heavy showed his watch to Sniper.

"So you have one too . . . And yours has a different number."

"Vhat?"

"My watch has a different number. It's an 8. See?" Sniper showed his watch to Heavy.

"Do buttons vork?"

"You mean these things?" said Sniper, pointing to the three buttons on the right side of his watch. "I tried pressing them, but nothin' happened. I'm guessing it's the same with you."

"Yes."

Heavy and Sniper stood against the wall, collecting their thoughts. Neither of them knew more than the other about whatever was going on at the moment. There was still a sense of relief for them, knowing that they were no longer alone and were in the presence of someone familiar.

"Heavy, do ya have any of yer weapons on ya?"

"No, everything is gone."

"Damn, well there goes my idea. I haven't got mine neither. Have you looked around?"

"Only in this hall. I already told you, doors are locked."

"Then let's get going."

Heavy and Sniper walked up the stairs, which were at the end of the corridor. The stairs had much less lighting than the area near the steel doors; the light bulbs here were flickering. The railing was very loose, and the steps had a rickety noise. Heavy was worried the stairs would not be able to support his weight. The air became less damp with ever step Heavy and Sniper took. The two also felt warmer as they reached the top. The stairs must have been at least twenty feet high.

The area outside of the stairs contrasted with the cells they were in. The area was commodious, with the ceiling twenty-some feet high. The walls were built of dark varnished wood, and the ceiling had an intricate arabesque design. As Heavy and Sniper walked more, they noticed a grand staircase to their left. The two had come out of an alcove that was directly under the staircase. They stopped in front of the stairs.

"This place . . . it's incredible," said Sniper, surveying the area.

"Yes, ve must be in rich man's house," said Heavy.

Directly above the two was a large pristine chandelier. It was shining brightly and was free of any cobwebs. On the right side of the room was a large unkindled fireplace. Above it was a large tapestry of William Sadler's The Battle of Waterloo. On each side of the tapestry were burnished escutcheons, each one having a large insignia at its center. The whole wall seemed to have represented British military victories, although it could have just been an ostentatious display to impress visitors.

To the front of the stairs were five steel barricades where there seemed to have been a door and four windows. They were obviously in place to keep whoever was inside of the house trapped. And finally, to the left of the stairs, there were two large steel doors. One had 4 emblazoned across it, while the other one had a 5.

"Sniper, do you see?"

"Yes, and yer watch matches the number on one of them too, right?"

"Yes. Vhat do you think it means?"

"I don't . . . shit! Someone's here! Hide!"

The two went to the right of the grand staircase and ducked. They were both thinking that the person coming down the stairs was the one who locked them into the cells.

"Well, that was a waste of time."

"I reckon there's something up there. Did ya see the electric panel next to the door?"

"Maybe someone or somethin's hidin' behind there. Should we take a second look?"

All those voices were familiar to Sniper and Heavy. Heavy stopped crouching and began to stand up, but Sniper pulled him down by his collar.

"Wot do yah think yer doing?" whispered Sniper.

"Vhat? You don't recognize voices?" whispered Heavy.

"Of course I do, but they might not be on our team."

"Stay here, then. I'll check." Heavy push away Sniper's hand.

"Don't blame me if yah die."

Heavy stood and started walking up the grand staircase. The three men at the top noticed him and stopped their conversation.

"Well, looks like you vere right, Engineer. Everyone is here." said Spy.

"Well, if it isn't the fatty," said Scout.

"Hello everybody," said Heavy.

"Hi Heavy," said Engineer. "Is Sniper with you?"

"Yes, he's right here." Heavy pointed to the right of the grand staircase's railing, which was where Sniper was crouching.

"Ya bloody idiot!" said Sniper.

"It's okay, Sniper. I know they are good team."

"You can't be so sure."

"I am."

Sniper stopped crouching and walked next to Heavy. "You said everyone is here. What do ya mean?"

"The other classes, of course," said Engineer. "What else?"

"Those two are slow," said Scout. "Why do ya think they're the last ones to arrive? The puzzle must o' been hard for them."

"Hey, be nice," said Engineer. "Nobody knows what's going on right now."

"Everyone had puzzle?" asked Heavy.

"Yes!" interrupted Soldier. He walked down the stairs along with Pyro, Demoman, and Medic. Every mercenary of RED was now in the foyer. "We all had the same exact puzzle. You maggots took your sweet time."

"Medic!" said Heavy. He was happy to see his friend.

"Guten tag, Heavy and Sniper," said Medic. "Soldier, Heavy and Sniper are taller than everyone else. If I am correct, ve vere all under the effects of anesthesia for quite avhile. Heavy and Sniper might have been given a higher dosage to compensate for their heights."

"Doc, I thought only mass matters in determining dosage," said Engineer. "If I'm not mistaken, Soldier and Demoman weigh more than Sniper."

"Ja, but veren't they the first out of their rooms? Maybe they vere given too little anesthesia."

"I think only a professional would administer anesthesia. They'd know to go by mass. Still, you're the Doc, so whatever you say."

"Do ye two have your weapons?" asked Demoman.

"Nah," replied Sniper.

"None of us are armed then," said Demoman. "That's just great. I have a feelin BLU is behind this."

"Yeah, and now they're going to kill us," said Soldier.

"They could have already killed us if they wanted to," said Spy. "This all seems very strange."

"I think they're gonna torture us first!" said Scout. "One by one, they'll have us go into _that _room."

"It's nice to see that you still have a vivid imagination in the worst of situations," said Engineer. He averted his attention to Sniper and Heavy again. "Do you two happen to have watches with a single number displayed?"

"Yes, ve do," said Heavy.

"Oh right, we almost forgot," said Soldier. "One of you has a 5, right?"

"I have 5," said Heavy, showing his watch to Soldier.

"Let's go to the two doors right now!" said Soldier.

Heavy had almost forgotten he was about to head to the number 5 door before meeting the other mercenaries at the stairs. Everyone walked down the stairs and turned to the left, then stopped in front of the two doors.

"Okay, so who is number 4?" asked Sniper.

"That's me," said Demoman.

"And you tried opening the door already?"

"Aye, and obviously nothing happened."

"Let's try having Demoman and Heavy pull down the lever at the same time," said Engineer.

Heavy hadn't noticed the levers of the doors until now. There were two of them, each one directly to the left of a door. There were scanners to the left of each lever, but they seemed to have been turned off. Heavy didn't think anything would happened, but he still complied.

"Okay, on the count of three," said Soldier. "Three, two, one . . ."

Heavy and Demoman pulled down the doors' levers simultaneously. As Heavy was expecting, nothing happened.

"Another failed idea," said Soldier, deeply sighing. "What could these numbers on our watches possibly mean?"

"I think the numbers are supposed to represent our intelligence," said Scout. "This is why I'm number 1, and Spy is number 9."

"Very funny, scoundrel," retorted Spy. "I, for one, think it represents who is most likely to be afraid of rainbows."

"Is that the best you can do?"

"For now."

Heavy interrupted their argument. "Vhat is everyone's numbers?"

"Oh, right," said Medic. "Ve forgot you guys didn't know. I'm number 7."

"I'm number 1, obviously because I'm the best there ever was," said Scout.

"I'm number 6," said Engineer.

"Mm nmnbr frr," said Pyro, showing his watch that had a 3.

"I'm number 2," said Soldier.

"In case you've already forgotten, I'm number 4," said Engineer.

"And I'm number 9, the highest out of us," said Spy. Scout snickered.

Heavy tried remembering everyone's numbers in his head:

1. Scout

2. Soldier

3. Pyro

4. Demoman

5. Heavy

6. Engineer

7. Medic

8. Sniper

9. Spy

"Interesting . . ." said Heavy. "Nobody knows vhat numbers means?"

"Nope, but we think it might have something to do with digital roots," said Soldier.

"Don't the numbers match the orderin' o' the classes?" said Sniper.

"Yes, come to think of it, they do" said Engineer. "But our order was always meaningless. I wonder why it would matter now–"

Before anyone could say anything else, a static sound from a speaker was heard. It startled almost everyone, even giving some of them an adrenaline rush.

"Good evening, gentlemen. If you would please, keep away from the alcove leading to the stairs to the basement . . ."

The nine mercenaries turned to face the stairs, which was where they thought the voice was coming from.

"The Administrator!" cried Scout.

A steel portcullis lowered to prevent the mercenaries from entering the basement. There was a loud thud that echoed throughout the room when the steel rims of the gate hit the floor.

"She's trappin' us again!" said Demoman.

"Thank you for listening," said the Administrator from a loudspeaker in a corner of the foyer. "You no longer have business down in the basement. You no doubt have a great many deal of questions. Some of you may be angry for this seemingly impromptu set-up. You are quite used to a long, well-articulated debriefing, from yours truly, before being placed into new areas. The circumstances are quite different this time – actually, that's an understatement. Everything is different this time. Many of the tactics you used on the battlefield will prove to be quite useless here, so please pay very close attention to what I am about to tell you.

"First, I think I should tell you where you are. This place is Mann Manor. No, this is not the same mansion with all the supernatural entities and control points. This place belongs to Gray Mann. As you can see in this foyer Gray Mann, unlike his brothers, was a very fastidious man, appreciating the finer things in life such as Victorian architecture. His brothers were mere dilettantes, only having such a proclivity for 'finer things' because they tried to appear classy for their business associates."

_Gray Mann was? I thought he was still alive. And isn't he supposed to be our enemy?_

"I know it seems odd to be here, considering I have stated in the past that Gray Mann is our enemy. This no longer is an issue as Gray Mann has died. No one knows exactly how he died and no one also knows where his remains lay. All that is known is that before he died, he had written a will. He has allowed me to inherit his family's share of my company and the mansion you are in right now. I suppose you mercenaries are not interested in hearing pecuniary matters, unless it involves a raise in your salary. And a raise you shall get, soon.

"Now, let me tell you the real reason why you are here. Today, your time working under me will reach its climax. This is really the moment you've been waiting for, assuming you actually read what was written on your contracts when you first joined us. All of you probably were completely stupefied by the amount of money offered, so let me refresh your memory about your contracts. Of course, you most likely remember forming friendships between teams was strictly forbidden, but you probably don't remember the part where it was specifically written that you would be performing unconventional tasks to ensure the safety of the team you were assigned to. Indeed, it was deliberately written equivocally, so we could essentially have you perform whatever task we wanted to at our whims. None of you asked questions about anything other than the amount of pay you would receive and if the work would involve anything potentially fatal. Your work, evidently, has not killed you. You are already aware that our respawn technology has kept you alive all this time. Yes, you have been able to cheat death because of it. It must make you wonder what the whole point of the war was, if each side had a respawn system. Everything has led up to this point."

_I don't like the sound of where this is going . . ._

"Today, you will be participating in the Nonary Game. In this game, your life will be at risk. I know I've stated similar things in the past about dying, but this time there is no respawning. Any death that occurs in this mansion will be permanent. If you die here, you will not be brought back to life."

Heavy's heart started beating rapidly. Some of the other mercenaries gasped. Scout became disoriented.

"Your usual weapons have been confiscated. You will not be needing them for this game. Instead, you will be using a weapon that has been dormant for far too long: your brain. The game will require you to use your cognition to its fullest extent. No, this game is not an intelligence test. We are already well aware of what you are capable of doing. It may currently seem that some of you have an extreme intellectual advantage over others, but this is not the case. Just keep in mind that, like always, cooperation is keen to succeeding. Unlike the battlefield, however, where at times you could succeed without support from your teammates, in this game cooperation is not crucial, but mandatory. Failure to cooperate will result in an imminent death, guaranteed.

"I think I've employed enough of my typical scare tactics to fully catch your attention, so now it's time to explain the rules of the game. The objective of the game is simple enough; you must enter the number 9 door within nine hours. Yes, it will look similar to the two numbered doors near where you currently stand."

Heavy and some others took a small glance at the number 4 and number 5 doors.

"Opening each door requires the use of your watch. You must have already noticed the number on your watch and that it differs from your peers' numbers. Surely, you haven't forgotten the puzzle from your, ahem, _cells_, that involved digital roots. Opening the doors requires the numbers of your watches to have a digital root matching the number on the door you wish to open. Since you have to go through the trouble of solving digital roots for entrance, it should be apparent that a single person cannot open a door by himself.

"You may have already noticed the panels next to the two numbered doors near where you stand. These will activate once the countdown starts. These control the adjacent doors. To use the panels, simply put your left hand up to the scanner. Your watch's number will be registered in the small display above the panel. A door will open only if at group of three, four, or five people have registered their numbers into its panel. Once the panel has a right amount of people with a matching digital root, it will open its door. The door will remain open for only nine seconds. If everyone who registered their numbers does nothing, the door will close and nothing will happen. You will be able to re-register your numbers onto the panel since the room is vacant. If just one person goes into a room during the nine-second opening of the doors, everyone part of his group must go in as well. Any person outside of the room when the door closes will face a severe penalization. I don't think I need to mention what it is.

"Once a group is inside a room, the panel will register its status as occupied. If the whole group within a room were to suddenly die, the room's panel will revert back to a vacant status. If the group within the room solves its puzzle, the panel will go to a solved status. When this happens anyone, including those who did not initially register their numbers into the panel, will be able to move in and out of the room freely.

"Back to the watches on your wrists, notice that on the right side of them there are three buttons. Once the countdown begins, your watches will become fully functional. The top button will just have the watch display your number. The middle button will display the time remaining in the countdown. The bottom button's function will only work when you are behind a numbered door. It will tell you how many people are in a room. Your watch also has another function that does not have a button."

Heavy broke out in a cold sweat on the nape of his neck.

"Your watch contains secobarbital, a barbiturate with powerful soporific effects. For those of you not privy to pharmaceutical jargon, it's a drug that renders its user very drowsy. With higher doses, its user's central nervous system will shut down and he will die. If you fail to complete the game within the allotted time, fail to go into a room with your peers before its door closes, or attempt to take your watch off, the drug will be administered into your veins. Once this happens, you will obviously die. Fear not, though. Your death would be swift and virtually painless. It would be like falling asleep after a long day."

Heavy had a tingling sensation under his watch.

"That covers about everything – well, there is more, but you'll just have to figure out the rest. I do, however, believe these questions will prove to be quite an incentive. Have you been wondering how the respawn system works, why there would sometimes be two or more identical classes on the battlefield, why there was a craze of flamboyant hats in the middle of a war, why there was a robot invasion, and why we even started this mess and contracted you? Or how about my own motives? I'm sure you haven't trusted me since the first time you've heard my coarse voice. Play the game. If you succeed, you will have all the answers you seek and perhaps much more. If you fail, you will simply die. That's all.

"This may all seem very perplexing, but I really do have confidence in you. Good luck, mercenaries. Just remember that I'll always be watching over you. Do not try anything funny, and do have some fun. Now begins the countdown."

Heavy and everyone else immediately looked at their watches. Heavy clicked the second button. His number 5 was replaced with "9:00." The colon was blinking for each second passed. Heavy also clicked the third button. Nothing was displayed on his watch's screem now. He would have to wait until he was in a room for that function to work.

_She really means business . . ._

Some of the other mercenaries stood in place shocked with their mouths agape. The Administrator had the mercenaries perform many unusual tasks, such as pushing a cart through a battlefield and delivering items to the same person repeatedly. As she had said in the announcement, no one really ever questioned their work because they had high salaries. They knew there was something the Administrator was hiding from them, but no one could have ever guessed she would eventually have them play a deadly game without their weapons.

"This, this. . ." said Scout. "This is a load of fuckin' horseshit!"

"Yeah!" concurred Soldier.

"I'm not playin' along wit that psychotic bitch's rules," said Scout, pacing back in forth in front of Pyro. "This is simply insane. What the hell was she thinkin'?"

"Mmmph," said Pyro, itching his gas mask where his ear may have been.

"Calm down, Scout," said Medic. "Ve all are in the same situation as you."

"Yeah, but you guys are old!The hell any of you care whether you die or not. I still have my whole life ahead of me."

"Oh no," said Spy. "Looks like Scout is really going to die a virgin! So sad!"

"What? Say that again, you douche bag!"

"You didn't hear me zhe first time? I said it looks like you're going to die a . . ."

"Sonofabitch! I'll make sure you're the first to die!"

"Oh, does zhe truth hurt?" said Spy, snorting.

Scout started charging toward Spy, but he was stopped by Engineer's right hand: his robotic hand.

"Come on, fellows," said Engineer. "Is this really the time to be acting like twelve-year old's?"

"Scout is a twelve-year old," said Spy.

Scout was further enraged by Spy's comment. He tried struggling to get out of Engineer's grip, but he barely could move.

"Lemme go!"

"Will you ignore Spy and calm down?"

Scout noticed Engineer's vexed tone of voice. "Fine."

"All right, then."

Scout backed away from Engineer and Spy. He was still mad at Spy, but he didn't want to upset Engineer.

"Danke, Engineer," said Medic. "Scout is young, so I do feel sorry for him to be caught in this all."

"Please," said Scout. "Save your sympathy for someone who wants it."

"Okay, dummkopf."

Heavy didn't pay much attention to the other mercenaries. He was staring down at his watch, clicking the buttons to see its functions. Even though he knew what each button already did, repeatedly pressing them was somewhat stress-relieving. He was also thinking about what the Administrator had said at the end of the announcement about certain incentives. He was actually quite persuaded by what she had said; he really wanted to know what the true purpose of his occupation was.

"Did anyone pay attention at end?" said Heavy.

"Of course we did!" said Demoman. "I ain't buying any of that! The lass is extremely manipulative!"

"I don't know about that," said Engineer. "Maybe she really is telling the truth."

"What?" said Soldier. "So you want to play along with this game? We all know you are a pacifist. You avoid confrontation whenever possible. You'd rather sort through your schematics and see which one can best cover your sorry ass. Do you feel this is finally your time to shine?"

"Heh, if that's really what you want to think, grunt. No, I'm thinking she really is telling the truth about revealing everything. She has never lied about our salaries before, so why would she start lying about anything now?"

"Really? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one. She hasn't lied to us about our salary, but she obviously just admitted to keeping concealed information."

"Yes. Maybe she was waiting until this moment to tell us."

"Oh, right. She waited until we were in a place where we will die without respawning to tell us these important things. I guess they don't teach common sense in graduate school, maggot."

"Nope."

"Just great."

"Are you actually hesitating?

Soldier didn't want to admit he was afraid for the first time ever, working as a mercenary. "Of course I'm not! Don't think me not trusting the Administrator is out of fear."

"Then what is it out of?"

"I . . . I . . ." stuttered Soldier. He couldn't think of anything to say.

"Oh, he just hates how she's always bossing us around like vermin," said Demoman. "He doesn't like to be told what to do! He's a bloody maverick!"

"Yeah, that," said Soldier. He was very glad his friend was there to back him up.

"I see," said Engineer.

"Well, are you guys ready to play ze Nonary Game?" said Spy. "It actually sounds fun."

"Of course you'd be the one to say that, you frickin' sadist," said Scout. "And speakin' of the name, what the hell does nonary even mean?"

"Nonary means nine, basically," said Engineer. Everyone else's eyes wandered towards him. Scout wasn't the only one who had never heard of the word. "It's quite an unusual word. I've never heard it used outside of number base operations."

"Number base operations?" said Sniper. "Do enlighten us, truckie."

"Well, it's quite a boring subject," said Engineer. "But if you insist . . . The standard way of counting involves the numbers 1, 2 ,3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10. In the standard base, the decimal base, ten equals ten. Decimal, if you didn't know, means ten in the same way nonary means nine. Anyway, 10 is the number to discern when determining bases. The most common base used besides the decimal base would probably be the binary base. In the binary base, sometimes referred to as base-2, ten equals two. Counting in binary from 1 to 5 would be 1, 10, 11, 100, 101. No one really counts like this . . ."

"Then why the bloody hell does it exist!" exclaimed Demoman.

"I'm getting there, Scotsman. In the world of computing, the binary base is used simply because data is absolute. It either is or isn't. It's either on or off. The binary base suits the world of computing perfectly. A long string of ones and zeros is data. Sometimes, for better understanding of complex algorithms, a higher base is used; usually a base that is a square of two. The most common bases for this purpose are the octal and hexadecimal bases. Octal is base-8 and hexadecimal is base-16, meaning in the octal base ten equals eight and in the hexadecimal base ten equals sixteen. As you all have known since you were children, there exists no discrete symbols used for numbers larger than nine. In the hexa–"

"I find this hardly relevant, egghead," interrupted Soldier. The other mercenaries were just as uninterested as Soldier in what Engineer was saying. Engineer's pedantry proved to be much more of a bore than a valuable insight at most times.

"To be honest, I'm beginning to question the relevance myself. However, please let me continue. We know very little of the situation we are currently in other than what the Administrator has told us. The only time I have heard of the term 'nonary' was when I was dealing with base numbers. None of you know anything pertaining to the word, right?"

Engineer looked at the other mercenaries. They were all either staring at the floor or looking into the distance. Nobody answered Engineer. He made a slightly smug grin, pleased that the others finally had to listen to some of his scholarly knowledge they so loved to ignore.

"I know, I know. I warned you it would be boring, but now that I've started I might as well finish. As I was saying earlier, there exists no discrete symbols for numbers larger than nine in our Arabic numeral system. For this reason, in the hexadecimal base, numbers larger than nine are represented by letters. A equals ten, B equals eleven, C equals twelve, D equals thirteen, E equals fourteen, F equals fifteen, and ten equals sixteen. You can imagine a long string of binary information being shortened whenever it is converted into hexadecimal information."

"Is that finally it?" said Spy.

"Let me think here for a sec . . . Yep, that's it. There's much more that can be said, but I think I'd need more than a few minutes to explain it all. I think I've covered the gist of it."

"But you didn't talk much bout the nonary base," said Scout.

"No, I guess I did not. I'm sure you understand how it works, if you were paying any attention to me."

"Yeah, I think I understand well nuff. Instead o' the nine bein' a nine, it becomes a ten, right?

"Correct. Glad to see you were listening to me, for once."

"Don't flattah yourself. Now, what exactly do ya think this all means?"

"To be honest, I really don't know. I've never actually had to use the nonary base for anything, ever."

Heavy was surprised at that statement. "Engineer, you mean that in all years of graduate study at university, you never used it?"

"That's right. In all my years of higher education and engineering, I have never had to use the nonary base for any of my calculations."

"Wait a minute," said Scout. "You said that higher bases wit a square of two are sometimes used, right?"

"Yes, I did. What of it?"

"I mean, nine is a square of three, isn't it? Dontcha think that may mean somethin'?"

"That you remember pre-algebra from middle school?"

"Asshole, be serious."

"I don't really have any further thoughts on the matter. You seem to have thought of something interesting, perhaps?"

"Yeah, but I think you'll just say that it's stupid. I don't care. What I think is this; the game got its name from a number base, at least accordin' tah you, so maybe the squares that make up nine are meant tah be the class roles: offensive, defensive, and support. And maybe the reason why it's called the nonary game is because there really is a tenth class, which is why nine equals ten. You know, we're always talkin' bout there bein' a tenth class and all."

"I don't think I would have ever thought of that. It is certainly far-fetched, but anything could be possible at this point."

Scout's caprice was normally irksome to the other mercenaries. They usually wished he would just keep his mouth shut because he would say almost every thought that popped up in his head. He would usually bring up his old batting average, how the streets of Boston had toughened him up as a child and how his teammates wouldn't have lasted a day there, how he was always the one in the vanguard of the battlefield while everyone sat around on their lazy fat asses, how he was the youngest one and everyone else was an old fart, and of course how many girls he had laid (Spy was quite adamant in his beliefs that the number was zero). What Scout had said about the nonary base numbers and the class roles had intrigued everyone, though. They were all thinking about what he had said – everyone except Medic.

"Vhat zhe hell are you guys doing?" said Medic. "You are staring into space like idiots! You do realize if ve fail to comply with zhe rules of zhe game, ve vill all die for good? Zhere is no respawn. Ve have already vasted almost fifteen minutes!"

Heavy clicked on the center button of his watch. 8:47 was displayed onto its screen. Medic was right; they were all wasting time, doing absolutely nothing but speculating without having evidence to anything.

"I agree vith Doctor," said Heavy. "Ve vaste much time."

"Why don't we just open the goddamn doors already!" grunted Soldier. He knew they were too caught up in their thoughts to actually want to go in right away. This was just his chance to reaffirm his courage or perhaps even his masculinity, in his mind.

"There might be some window or crevice we overlooked, mate," said Sniper.

"And I think some of us want to further discuss some things," said Engineer. "Who knows if we'll meet again after going through the doors?"

"All right, cowards, I concede." said Soldier, content no one mentioned how he acted earlier, although Demoman knew his words were spurious. "I still think we'll be wasting precious time, though."

"Right, vell let's see . . ." said Medic. He was looking down at his watch. "Ve have eight hours and forty-five minutes. Vhy don't ve search around zhe place some more? It shouldn't hurt us a bit. Ve could meet back here in front of the doors when our watches say '8:30.' Does zhis sound good?"

"Yeah," said Scout. "I'm fine wit this."

"Me too," said Sniper, nodding along with Pyro and Engineer.

Heavy was glad there was a consensus to stay outside the numbered doors for awhile longer. He knew that nobody really was going to try hard searching for anything. The Administrator probably had an assiduous crew set the whole game up. She said she can see everything the mercenaries are doing, so there was no point in trying to escape. The mercenaries were just going to talk to one another. Everyone was appreciating each others' company, for once. The feeling of apprehension in the air was very strong. It was almost as if everyone already knew that some people amongst themselves were going to have untimely deaths – very untimely deaths.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I didn't want to mention this until the very end of the chapter, since it would have spoiled Sniper and Heavy's awe of the foyer. The mansion will be based on elements from the Walt Disney theme park ride The Haunted Mansion, Nancy Drew, Agatha Christie, and the Parker Brothers board game, Cluedo.

I was thinking about GlaDOS when I wrote the Administrator's announcement. In retrospection, it kind of makes the speech sound more chilling, especially when she was describing the secobarbital (which incidentally and technically is a neurotoxin). I also noticed that she's the only one who I've referred to with a definite article thus far. I guess we can think of her like The Don of the Mafia, for now.

I really hope you enjoy the story!


	3. Ex3

**Author's Note**: Doomsday update! I could have updated the story sooner, but I think it was best for to wait until now. Numbers are a big part of this story after all.

It looks like people are starting to like the story, surprisingly. Thank you all for reading, but please feel free to share your thoughts. Don't worry; I won't bite, and I'm an adult, so I can handle your criticism no matter how vitriolic it may be (this would be your cue to hit me with your best shot. Seriously, tell me if you think this story is shitty or not. Be honest! Be crude! Be crudely honest!). The story can be improved, and I kind of suck at writing the mercenaries' accents. If you hadn't noticed, the way they were speaking in the last chapter was inconsistent. I'm going to fix the dialogue and omit some of the stupider portions of the author's notes. Any tips or suggestions you have – for not just the accents but anything in general – would be greatly appreciated. And thank you, Wepul, for your feedback. It really has motivated me to continue writing.

I can't believe no one had the gall to call me out on this; I've been showing how to solve digital roots the complicated way. I have since fixed this problem in the previous chapters. I hope I won't overlook such a thing when I start introducing more complex mathematical concepts into the story.

I'm going to have to write another disclaimer because some of the viewpoints that will be expressed in this story may be considered controversial by some people, so . . .

**Disclaimer:** The viewpoints expressed by the characters in the story do not necessarily represent the author's viewpoints.

No, it has nothing to do with Medic and Nazism. That's become too much of a cliché in TF2 fanfiction and fandom in general. He'll still be an unethical quack, though. Anyway, this disclaimer was more for later chapters in the story than this one. I figured I might as well put it here, just in case.

* * *

Chapter 3

The mercenaries dispersed from the area in front of the two numbered doors. Soldier and Demoman walked to the right of the grand staircase. They were going to retrieve something they had hidden from the other mercenaries. Medic and Heavy walked to the grand staircase. Heavy just wanted to speak with his old friend. Pyro, Engineer, and Scout walked to the area around the fireplace. Scout wanted to further discuss his _theory_ with Engineer. Sniper and Spy walked to the steel barricades blocking the windows and presumably, the front door. Unlike the other mercenaries, the two really didn't care about anything that was happening. Spy pulled out a cigarette and lit it up in his mouth.

"Wot the hell?" said Sniper. "I thought you said you didn't have any weapons on ya."

"Oui, I did," said Spy. "I do not 'ave my butterfly knife or my revolver."

"But ya clearly have yer Zippo."

"It's not really a weapon."

"Wotever. Can you spare me a smoke?"

"Of course, convict." Spy took a cigarette out of his case in his inner jacket pocket. He gave the cigarette to Sniper, who put it in his mouth and made quick puffs as Spy held his lighter close to its end. When the cigarette was fully lit, Sniper took a deep puff, and then he exhaled the smoke through his nose.

"Hmm, I ain't used to this kind o' smoke. It's a little fruity"

"It's a Turkish blend. I suppose you prefer that one American blend – the one advertised by cowboys?"

"No, I prefer the lucky toasted blend."

"That's disgusting."

"It's better than this shit ya smoke." Spy scoffed, then started to blow large smoke rings into Sniper's face. Sniper became annoyed."And ya pick on Scout for bein' childish . . ." Sniper muttered something unintelligible.

"I'm just very bored. I am once again stuck with you fine gentlemen."

"Don't ya mean we're the ones stuck with you?"

"Of course not. Want to see another trick?"

"Wot?" Before Sniper could say anything else, Spy opened his mouth to let smoke out, then quickly inhaled the smoke through his nose. This caused a small cloud of smoke to form between Spy's upper lip and nose. Spy exhaled the remaining smoke out of his mouth. "Wot made you think I'd be interested in seeing that, spook?"

"I don't know, but you were watching me. It's called a French inhale."

"I know what it's called."

"So, you know 'ow to do it?"

"Yeah."

"Do it, convict."

"No."

"Do it. I gave you a cigarette."

Sniper glared at Spy. He knew he would keep pestering him until he did it. Sniper took a drag of his cigarette and, reluctantly, performed the French inhale. Spy broke out in laughter.

"Wot's so funny?" asked Sniper.

Spy regained his composure. "I didn't think you'd actually do it."

"And you find that hilarious?"

"Oui, you looked very silly."

Sniper grimaced. "Piss off."

Spy always had the oddest ways of amusing himself, and Sniper was well aware of this. Sniper wished he would be serious or at the very least act his own age. The last thing anyone needed now was for someone or something to make the long night seem like an eternity. Unfortunately, for everyone, Spy didn't care at all.

* * *

"Doctor, vhat vas upstairs?" asked Heavy.

"Just two hallways vith many locked doors," said Medic. "Zhere is a door vith a panel on one end."

"Just like ones near doors here?"

"Nein. Vhy don't we valk upstairs so you can see for yourself. Ve have some time."

"Okay."

Heavy and Medic proceeded to walk up the grand staircase. To the right of the staircase, where Heavy and Sniper were once hiding earlier, were Soldier and Demoman.

"What is it that you wanted me to see?" said Soldier.

Demoman pulled out a 2L plastic bottle that was hiding under the stairs. "Look what I've found."

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Aye, I found it in me room. I hid it once the others started appearing. Have some." Demoman handed the bottle to Soldier. Soldier opened the bottle and eagerly took a sip, but immediately spat the alcohol out of his mouth.

"What the hell is this?" Soldier wiped away the alcohol from his lips with his sleeve. "It tastes like warm piss!"

"It's cheap whiskey – cheap watered-down whiskey."

"Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"What, did ya think it was scrumpy? It's better than nothing." Demoman took a big gulp his whiskey. "And don't tell the others I have it. I got to keep as much as I can for me self."

Soldier stared down at the floor as Demoman idly drank whiskey.

"Is something the matter?" asked Demoman.

"No, it's nothing," said Soldier.

"Liar, you're afraid of the Administrator."

Soldier sighed. Demoman was right; there weren't many things Soldier was afraid of, but he was terrified of the Administrator. The mercenaries had only ever seen her appear on screens for debriefings before they were placed into new areas. No one had ever seen her in person. Soldier's fear of her was usually overcame by his strong blood-lust for battle. On the battlefield, he felt as though he was in charge of everything, even though he knew the Administrator was overseeing him and everyone else. The battlefield was his comfort zone. As long as he was there, he felt _safe_. The Nonary Game had placed him out of his comfort zone. For the first time in a long while, he had to face his problems head-on.

"You know," said Soldier. "I didn't sign up for this."

"I know," said Demoman. "Ye signed up for guts and glory, right?"

"Yeah, this game does require guts, but I doubt there will be any glory."

"And makes you think that?"

"We're going to die here."

"Don't say that, now.

"But it's true. We're so used to making reckless decisions on the battlefield because of the respawn system. I bet you this place is full to the brim with deathtraps. We can't afford any casualties, but there will be some. Mark my words, there will be some."

Demoman was stunned at Soldier's words. "Ye aren't sounding yourself right now. What's gotten into ye?"

"I'm scared," mumbled Soldier.

"What?"

"I'm scared," said Soldier in a slightly louder, yet discernible enough mumble. His face started turning red at the admission, and he was expecting Demoman to call him a coward.

"Yes, we all are scared. There's no shame in admitting that."

"Yes there is. Plus, you don't seem scared at all."

"Only cause I've got this shitty booze for company. It ain't scrumpy, but it'll do me good enough. Are ye sure you don't want some? I think it'll do you more good than it'll for me."

"No, I'm good." Soldier lied. "You know, I think this may all be a test."

"A test? What kind of test?"

"The Administrator said it's not an intelligence test and that she knows what we are capable of doing, so maybe it's an endurance test, or perhaps even a weakness test. Maybe that's why I'm feeling very vulnerable right now."

"I see, but I think my weakness would be having no booze, and I clearly have some in me hand."

"Maybe that's not your weakness, then."

"I don't know about that. And what exactly do you think yours is?"

"Not being the commander-in-chief."

"Are ye serious? I don't even think that's a weakness. And I hate to be the one to break it to you yet again, but the others hardly ever listen to your ramblings."

"They most certainly do! Whenever they don't, we lose. Sometimes, common sense happens to break through their thick skulls, and then they listen to me."

"Wotever you say, lad."

Soldier stared at Demoman taking another gulp of whiskey. "I lied. I actually want a drink."

"Too many troubling thoughts?" Soldier didn't respond, but Demoman smiled. "Okay, but you better not spit any of it out this time."

"Thanks Demoman."

* * *

"I'm thinkin' the tenth class is behind the ninth door," said Scout. "It would make sense, don't you think?"

"No, not really," said Engineer. "Boy, you're just speculating. If what you're thinking about the numbers is true, it may be possible that Spy is the tenth class. Have you ever thought of that?"

Scout brought his hand up to his own face and started to tap his cheek out of curiosity. "Do you think he has another disguise that he refuses to show us?"

"No, that's not what I meant at all. Come on, Scout. You're the one who thought of this tenth class nonary base thing. Remember that 10 is actually 9 in the nonary base?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Spy's number would be 10 in the nonary base. Have you overlooked this?"

"No, I haven't. That just makes me think Spy's hidin' somethin' from us. I've never trusted the shape-shiftin' rat."

"Neither have I, but the only thing you've managed to discover is a coincidence."

"Well, I think it's more than just a coincidence. Don't you agree, Pyro?"

Pyro shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, thanks mute," said Scout. "So Engineer, did your work ever require the use of digital roots?"

"Believe it or not, it has. Digital roots are useful for determining divisibility of numbers. Normally, I wouldn't have to bother applying this knowledge whenever I have a calculator handy, but sometimes I am caught in less fortunate situations."

"That sounds interestin'. Tell me more."

Engineer gave Scout an awkward stare. "Heh, I would have never thought it. You, out of all people, interested in math."

"What's that supposed to mean? I know enough math to calculate my own batting average!"

"No need to get edgy. It was more of a compliment than an insult. Anyway, you remember what squares are, but do you remember the rules of divisibility?"

"No."

"They're rules that determine if a number is divisible by another number. Let's take the numbers of you (1), Pyro (3), me (6), and Sniper (8). Add them up together and you get 18, which has a digital root of . . ."

"9."

"Right. And you are obviously aware that 9 is divisible by 3. If a number has a digital root of 3, 6, or 9, it obviously is divisible by 3. Figuring out whether or not a larger number is divisible by 3 is very easy when you use digital roots. I hope you can see this now."

"Yes, I can see."

Engineer chuckled. "You could have asked me about this while we had our respites between battles, but you just had to wait until now."

"What makes you think I would have been interested about this then? We are in an honest-to-God life or death situation right now. I want to know as much as I possibly can before goin' into those doors. It's not like everyone can have you in their group."

"Smart boy. Unfortunately, it will take years before can garner even a modicum of everything I know about the hard sciences."

"You're a real ass, you know."

Engineer grinned. "You take everything so seriously. I'm just messing with you."

* * *

Heavy and Medic approached the door at the end of the second-floor hallway.

"Zhe hallway on the other end has a door at its end too, but zhere's no panel," said Medic. "Only this end has one." Heavy and Medic stared down at the panel. "Zhat's odd. Zhis vasn't on vhen we came here."

"Maybe it turned on vhen the countdown started," said Heavy.

"I don't know, but it doesn't seem like it vill vork like the panels downstairs. See vhat I mean?" The panel, unlike the ones near the doors in the foyer, did not have a scanner. Instead, there was a slot, which were presumably for cards of some sort. There was also a keypad just like the ones for the doors in the basement.

"Should ve tell others?" said Heavy.

"No, I don't sink zhat vould be good. Zhey would vaste much time trying to guess the numbers. Don't you agree."

"Da," said Heavy, although he didn't agree with Medic. He didn't like keeping information away from his teammates.

"Zhere vas anozher reason vhy I vanted you to come here."

Heavy noticed Medic's sudden change in his tone of voice. "Vhat is it, Doctor?"

"Have I ever told you how I lost mein medical license?"

"You said you accidentally removed all of man's skeleton from his body."

"Ja, but zhat's not really vhy I lost mein medical license. Zhe real reason is far less interesting and much more pathetic." Medic stopped giving Heavy eye contact and dejectedly slouched. "I vas a drug addict."

"No, Doctor cannot be a drug addict."

"It's true. You'd be surprised at how many doctors abuse zheir powers to write prescriptions. Doctors are given very long hours, you see. It is a very taxing profession. After zhe Var had ended, doctors vere needed all around Germany to tend the wounded soldiers and civilians. It vas a very hectic time. I vas just out of medical school. Normally, a doctor vould have to complete a year or two of residency before being able to practice medicine, but zhere vas a shortage of doctors. I vas able to practice medicine right avay, but under supervision from anozher doctor.

"Anyvay, zhe allied nations had sent some of zheir doctors over, but zhey had to tend zheir own injured civilians and soldiers in zheir home countries too. Nobody could keep up vith zhe vorkload. Some doctors started using mesamphetamine. Zhis drug vas used by some high-ranking Nazi officers during the var. Zhe drug did keep its users avake, but it gave some of its users zhe, how you say, _jitters_ and insomnia. Some people vere given a barbiturate in conjunction vith zhe drug to mitigate zhe poverful stimulant effects."

"Doctor," said Heavy. "Vere you using meth?'

"No, I vas 27, still young and full of energy. Coffee vas enough to keep me avake throughout zhe day. I vas addicted to secobarbital: zhe very drug zhat's in our vatches."

_What? This cannot be true._

"It's like a huge slap to my face, you know."

"Vhat do you mean?"

"Vhen I signed zhe contract for zhis mercenary vork, I vas promised I vould have my addiction fixed. TF Industries supposedly has advanced pharmaceutical engineering zhat's years ahead of its competitors. All I vas given vas zhe medigun, vhich did help me vith my vithdraval symptoms, but I still had trouble sleeping. I vas offered Valium for my insomnia, but I knew I vould just be replacing my addiction vith anozher drug. It seems zhe drug I tried to escape vill finally kill me in zhe end" Medic took a deep breath.

"So, Doctor is still addicted to drug?" Heavy was genuinely concerned for his friend.

"Ja, I believe so. Zhe Medigun has an analgesic, or pain-killing, effect. It does heal whomever I target, zhough, but I really have no idea how it vorks, and neizher does zhe Engineer." There was a moment of complete silence between the two that seemed long. "You know, I'm not zhe only drug addict."

"Oh, I know Doctor. Demoman is an alcoholic."

"Nein, he isn't. An alcoholic's body cannot properly function vithout alcohol. Demoman may have a psychological dependence to it, but he is no alcholic. Zhere's someone else vith an addiction far vorse zhan him."

"Who?"

"It's – actually, I cannot tell you. Zhe Administrator is vatching us, and I don't think it vould be smart for me to violate the physician-patient secrecy pact zhat vas part of my contract. She vould probably kill me right avay."

"But you told me about Demoman."

"Yes, but he is always drinking out in zhe open. He doesn't care zhat ozhers know that he has a drinking issue. Zhe person I'm referring has a very severe addiction, perhaps even as bad as mine."

"Okay . . ."

_Doctor is acting very strange right now._

"It's about time to go back to zhe numbered doors, anyvay."

Heavy's watch read 8:31.

"Let's go, Doctor. I have feeling ve vill be able to talk some more behind doors."

* * *

Author's Note: The _fun_ begins in the next chapter (which will also have much less math involved). Unfortunately, you now have to play the waiting game. I already have a good chunk of the plot ready in my mind, but I'm actually using math and drawing diagrams to design the outcomes of it. (I may reveal the notes once the story is completely finished. I know some of you may be interested in seeing the design.). The numbers and situations all have to add up in the end, otherwise the whole story will fall apart. This will all take some time to create, but I think the end results will be very satisfactory.

And I don't smoke, nor do I endorse smoking (but smoking tricks are extremely cool). Smoking is bad, mmmkay?

Fun fact: Judy Garland, the actress most known for her role as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, died from a secobarbital overdose in 1969. Whether or not the act was done intentionally by herself is still debated by some people today. (I think I'm going to add these fun facts at the end of some future chapters when certain subjects are brought up.)


End file.
